


Warmth

by tawny_owl



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Cigarette Sharing, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, They're just sharing everything, Warmth Sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 11:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawny_owl/pseuds/tawny_owl
Summary: The night where everything shifted.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language so apologies for any spelling mistake or wonky sentence structure you may find! (Feedback is welcome! <3)

It’s a night like dozens of others before. The fire, crackling and sparkling. A lone cricket chirping in the distance. The soft snorts of their horses grazing nearby.

They’re leaning side by side against the rock they chose as shelter for the night, their faces flickering with the flames. They ate earlier, while the sun was setting, inflaming the sky and the desert around them; now darkness is everywhere, save for the tiny little island of light around their hearth. They used to sit and sleep several feet apart, when they met a few months (an eternity) ago; the cold and Goodnight’s stories and Billy’s knife tricks brought them a little closer each night. They didn’t notice at first; they cannot deny it at this point, but they sure as hell aren’t going back to their old habits.

Now they’re sprawling comfortably on their shared blanket, legs aligned from hips to ankles, Goodnight’s arm lightly resting around Billy’s shoulders; the cold is biting tonight, and the warmth between them is both welcome and comforting.

Goodnight is chuckling as he recollects the gunfight scam they pulled together this very afternoon; after all these months, he doesn’t tire of impersonating the supremely vexed, angry, upset or drunk members of their audience, and his flourishing performances never fail to make Billy laugh until he almost cries from mirth. Tonight is no exception, and as Billy laughs uproariously, throwing his head back and slapping his thigh at one of Goody’s particularly hilarious comments, his hand falls back on his companion’s thigh and stays there, warmth slowly spreading under his fingers. Eyes still bright from laughing, he shifts deeper into Goodnight’s space, his free hand moving from its own accord to pluck the cigarette hanging loosely from Goody’s fingers, forgotten while he was entertaining Billy. (They’ve started sharing cigarettes a few weeks ago, as they fell short of tobacco one evening and none of them wanted to deprive the other of what was left; they consumed it silently that night, the effect of tobacco somewhat stronger as each of them wrapped his lips around the tip in turns. They didn’t talk about it, but they didn’t stop either after that.)

Billy takes a long puff from the shortened cigarette, leaning heavily on Goodnight’s side; his move caused his resting hand to spread even more on Goodnight’s thigh, and his weight and warmth and smell are everywhere. Goodnight sighs softly, heart suddenly beating like a spooked animal, and before he knows it he turns his head to lean on Billy’s tempting collarbone; eyes closed, he feels more than he hears Billy exhaling the last of the smoke, his neck arcing above Goodnight’s nose and mouth. Everything is warm and soft, and Goodnight feels like he’s floating in space except there are no stars, nothing but Billy’s overwhelming and intoxicating presence against him. Scrambling desperately for some semblance of grounding, he grips Billy’s neck as his lips instinctively find the soft skin under his jaw; he can fell the blood thrumming in his own veins and under his lips and in the dark enveloping them, he cannot tell where each of them begins or this other ends.

Billy’s quiet gasp brings him back to his senses, and as Goodnight looks above, he can barely make out his partner’s features; in the dim light of the sleeping fire, he only has time to see Billy’s dark eyes, looking at him with an undecipherable expression, before he feels the other man straddling him in one swift move.

In this new position, Billy is even closer to him, their noses almost touching, lips only a few inches apart; in the air between them he can taste the lingering smoke from the discarded cigarette. For one moment, time feels suspended and Goodnight stills, deeply aware of every place where their bodies connect: Billy’s hands, warm and strong against his jaw; their torsos, where their hearts are beating the same cavalcade underneath their shirts; their thighs and groins, in which a heat that has nothing to do with the dying fire is pooling, unashamed and ineluctable.

As his own hands slowly begin to rake over Billy’s back, marvelling at the solid warmth under his palms, he feels Billy’s loose strands of hair softly stroking his nose and cheeks, and then his mouth is on him. Warm. Soft. Pliant and demanding, one second barely brushing the corner of his mouth, then moving over the next to tug and bite at his lower lip, tongue claiming its prize, as if they’ve been doing that forever. Kissing. Caressing. Loving. Goodnight’s heart aches and sings at the same time and he brings his hands back to Billy’s nape, tugging him closer yet to deepen the kiss.

They stop a bit for air, forehead against forehead, and they laugh in the same breath, eyes dark and bright; when Billy kisses him again, hot lips moving from his mouth to his jaw to the hollow space between his collarbones, Goodnight releases a trembling sigh and lets go for the first time since the war.

In the sand next to them, the cigarette stub lies abandoned, a fiery glow flickering stubbornly in the dark.


End file.
